ArchivedLogs:Role Models

From X-Men: rEvolution
Role Models
Dramatis Personae

Matt, Shane


"Unfortunately, I couldn't fight my way out of a wet paper bag." (laterevening after thanksgivoween dinner.)


<NYC> Harbor Commons - Sunroom - Lower East Side

Bright and warm, this room is set up to enjoy a little bit of the outdoors even year-round. Tall glass panes make up most of its wall in between wood supports, providing a wide three-sided view of the garden and yard outside. As well as the inner doors leading back into the kitchens and dining room, an outer door leads out to the outdoor gardens, as well. Inside, the room is airy and green -- a plethora of potted herbs and plants hang from the ceiling, as well as ring the room in a series of narrow wooden raised-beds that provide growing space for a selection of herbs year-round.

Outside of the herb beds that ring the room, this place is designed simply to come and relax; quiet and simple, with clean stone floors and neutral-toned wicker furniture adorned with comfortable cushioning. Some of the chairs ring stone-and-glass tables for eating or conversing; a few more solitary seats come in the form of rocking chairs or netted hammock-chairs hanging from the ceiling.

The party has wound down, though in the manner of all such gatherings there's still a few lingering people chatting over the tables, some absconded upstairs to the games room, most of the cleanup finished. Shane has left the party some while ago, tucked into a corner of the sunroom in a rocking chair, his cellphone in his lap and a small beetle-shaped robot perched on the arm of the chair. The robot /has/ been projecting a second sharkpup in holographic form into the room, tucked up into the chair with Shane, but after a: "{-- /seriously/. As bad as Dad I swear. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.}" in Vietnamese, the projection disappears. Shane taps at his phone to close the video call, reaching to the table in front of him for a half-full bottle of beer that stands there.

Matt wander in with his own beer in hand, lingering at the threshold while Shane finishes his call. "Hey. Mind some company?" He seems fairly confident of the answer, for he continues into the room. He does not sit down just yet, though. "Autumn changed her mind, by the way." He takes a sip of his drink and gazes out into the quiet night.

"If that company's /you/?" The rocking chair creaks quietly against the floor as Shane pushes it back and forth. For a long while his eyes are focused on the spot where holo-B /had/ been, but shift eventually to Matt. "Thank fucking gods. That plan sounded like a grade-A bullshit."

"She was scared." Matt sits down sideways on the couch, draping himself catlike over the back to face Shane. "And her mom played off of that. Great recipe for terrible plans." He rests his cheek on the upholstery. "How's your sib doing?" A beat later. "How're *you* doing?"

"Total nonsense," Shane scoffs, his tone dismissive despite the quirk at the side of his mouth. "/I've/ never in my life done a /single/ stupid thing out of fear. Not even once." He gulps at the beer, brows furrowing as he looks at the beetle. His hand moves to cover it, claws clicking down against its metal shell. "Fucking terrible. College is brutal. I hope Desi's enjoying it better."

"That's not what makes you such a wonderful role model." Matt's foot swings, tapping the side of the couch softly. "Although you *are,* anyhow." He sighs, lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?" He shrugs, swishing his half-full beer bottle. "Desi...well, you know her. Plenty of new friends to make." His laugh is a soft puff of breath. "I think her primary issues right now are balancing her social life with academics."

"We keep trying and trying to make plans and it's just so hard these days to overlap," Shane says with some regret. "Probably my fault more than hers, I've been -- literally all over the place, we /almost/ actually had a date last weekend when I got whisked off to --" He frowns, lifting a shoulder. "But I'm glad /someone's/ enjoying college." Only slightly rueful. "/I/ --" His eyes tip over towards Matt, wider in a guileless startlement that is belied by the toothy sharp grin he cocks a moment later. "You think I'm a good role model? You haven't been paying much attention, dude."

"You *are* spread kind of thin, my man, but yeah, absolutely." Matt folds one of his arms under his head, propping his chin on his wrist. "Business owner, violin virtuoso, and dedicated alumnus." He answers Shane's grin with one somewhat less wide and less sharp. "I mean...there are a lot more kids with physical mutations at Xavier's now, and just as few faculty and staff who can truly understand their struggles."

Shane tips his head back, eyes fixing very steadfastly on the ceiling for a time. "That's," he finally answers, his tone veeery light and eyes still focused hard on the ceiling, "a far cry from all the other teachers' -- 'bad attitude' 'animal' 'rebellious crap' 'uncivilized' --" He swallows his words in another long sip of beer, rolling it down his throat slowly as his claws click against the bottle. His black eyes are glistening when he finally tips his head back down to Matt, though his grin is /fiercely/ back in place. "Anyway you forgot superhero."

"Not *all* the other teachers." Matt's voice is soft, and a little wistful. "But, I hear you." He raises the bottle to his lips, but lowers it again without drinking. "Wait, superhero?" His eyebrow hike up. "Independent or affiliated?"

"No," Shane agrees easily. "Not all." He lowers his beer to his lap. /His/ brows raise in hairless mirror to Matt's. "You mean Pa hasn't totally had a heart attack at you yet? He had like /fifty/ at me when I joined. -- With the school."

"Jax and I have been a bit...preoccupied." Matt's mouth pulls to one side. "With the school; the whole faculty has, as you know well enough. And you also know *he's* had plenty else on his plate, too. It's been hard to separate the extra fret from all the fretting he was already doing." He straightens up a little. "Well, then: business owner, violin virtuoso, dedicated alumnus, *and* superhero."

"You've all had so much on your plate." A heavy wash of concern crosses Shane's expression as he looks over at Matt, but then his eyes drop back to his beer. "The whole /school's/ been swamped. And /he's/ been -- {fuck}, with Ba -- and everything -- I just. Wanted to be able to look after him, you know? That's probably a dumb reason to join the team." His smile returns -- tentatively. "I mean, saving the rest of the world now and then isn't bad either. Helps problems /feel/ less overwhelming when you can -- punch them."

"It *has* been hectic at school, but I feel like my plate is pretty manageable, all things considered." Matt stretches out now, settling his chin on the arm of the couch. "I don't think it's dumb, though. Superheroing is basically all about looking after people, right? I wish there were more *I* could do to help your Pa..." He cants his head to one side. "...and my students, for that matter."

Shane grins a little bit brighter. "You don't even have any extra limbs or anything. I bet we've got uniforms in your fit, easy."

Matt guffaws and take a long pull on his beer. "I'm sure you do! Unfortunately, I couldn't fight my way out of a wet paper bag."

"/That's/ what training is for," Shane replies straightaway. "Besides, it's not all fighting. I just went on my first -- thing. With Flicker and Joshua and Scott and it was like. Saving people from boats in a fucking typhoon." Shrug. "And with what you do," he adds, quieter and more seriously, "you'd be useful to the team fighting or not. Pa /can/ fight his way out of -- just about anything and he still ends up looking half-dead and bleeding out his nose and puking and migrainey after so many of --" He stops with a scowl. Takes in a breath. "With you around people can fight harder. Have an extra boost. Some day for someone that's could mean coming home at all."

"That does sound like your kind of mission." Matt props his chin up in the palm of one hand. "But...true. I probably *can* learn to fight. At least well enough to avoid being a complete liability to a team. But specialized logistical support?" He looks up, emitting a soft, considering hum. "I'd have to talk to Luci, as much for the additional time commitment as any danger to myself, though you can well imagine he'll have Words about that, too."

"No doubt." Shane huffs out a quiet laugh. "But just imagine what /eloquent/ words those'll be."